When I was done, he had his phone ready again and the computerized voice started to speak. “She took me to the hospital. It hurt to breathe and they told me I had a damaged larynx. Swelling. After that, I couldn’t talk without it hurting. I might have been able to after six months, but the doctors said my brain now associates talking with excruciating pain. It’s trauma.”
I swallowed again as I finished listening. A shaky breath slipped from my mouth, and I licked my dry lips as anger for what Sam’s father did to him swirled low in my stomach. “I’m glad he’s dead.”
“We all are,” Dalton said. “If he wasn’t, Mom would’ve finished the job.”
“So, your parents helped?” I gaped.
Dalton hummed. “Mom hated Sam’s father and she hated her sister, too. Mom had always been protective of Sam, so when that happened, she wanted to make sure Sam never got in trouble. So, she got rid of the body.” He shrugged. “It was self-defense, but Sam’s father was a DA. So, the chances of police officers believing Sam?”
“Zero,” I concluded.
Dalton grabbed his wine glass and raised it. “Right.”
Sam sighed and wrapped an arm around the back of my chair, and I leaned against him, inhaling the scent of the day’s work on his skin. He smiled sadly.
“How did you start killing?” I murmured.
He waved his hand at Dalton, who took over.
“We were about nineteen at the time. Bee was eighteen and her boyfriend was a jackass.”
“That’s putting it lightly,” Bee drawled.
Dalton made a sound of agreement. “He got caught raping his neighbor. He expected Bee to side with him and tell the cops he was with her that night, but she didn’t.”
“The bastard smacked me, right here.” She pointed to her cheek, her words emotionless. It was as though she was telling someone else’s story and not her own.
“When Sam and I found out what happened, we just decided it was time for him to go.” Dalton shook his head. “I’m not the type of person to do the deed. I tried with this guy, but I couldn’t stand the sight of killing someone. So, that’s why I take the background role now. Own a farm, feed the bodies to the pigs.” He winced. Out of the three cousins, he seemed to have the most sensitive reactions. “By the time they come to me, they’re almost doll-like, just...in pieces. So I don’t have a problem.”
“After Jeff, we decided the world needed someone to get rid of these scum when they were let off the hook.” Bee stared at her gleaming fork, smirking. “Sam and I decided it’d be us. We would do it. People like Sam’s father or my ex deserve that fate.”
The room fell silent, and despite their words holding a lot of dangerous implications, a pleasantness settled inside me. I remembered Sam taking out the jock who’d beat me, then imagined him doing the same to the other jerks who’d treated me like shit in my life, and I smiled. Yeah, there was a lot of trash who deserved to be taken out.
Dalton held out his hand, and I frowned for a moment before Sam ripped out a few pages of the notepad with his writing and passed it to him. Dalton headed out of the room and I frowned.
“Fireplace,” Sam murmured, cringing.
He’d done that back at his house, too.
“When you admit this kind of stuff, the evidence needs to disappear.” Bee laughed. “Everything is traceable with electronics. Even if you delete it off your phone, it’s stillthere.Written on paper means it can be thrown into the fire and burned until there’s nothing left. We only ever use our phones for the innocent stuff that can’t connect us to murder.”
I chuckled. “Makes sense.”
Sam rubbed my shoulder and smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and my chest went all light and fluttery. Fuck, that was a weird feeling.
He pointed at my plate and I took it as a sign to keep eating.
Later that night, after hours of laughing about childhood stories from the cousins, I found Bee in the kitchen while the other three settled in the living room. I helped her with the dishes, choosing to dry while she washed. It was a small chore, but it felt almost like I was at home.
“Can I ask you something?” I peeked at Bee from the corner of my eye as she passed me a plate. Her blue eyes narrowed in on the dishes, like it wasn’t her favorite job. I didn’t blame her.
“Sure thing, kid.” She nudged me with her shoulder. “What’s up?”
“Do you think you can teach me ASL?” I ducked my head as heat flooded my cheeks. Clearing my throat, I focused on drying the next plate she handed me before I shoved it in the cupboard where it belonged. “Sam communicates to me by notepad and sometimes he actually talks, but it hurts his throat. I don’t want him to be in pain, but I want to converse with him, you know?”
When I glanced back at her, she hadn’t stopped washing the dishes, but a grin had spread across her face. I ignored the flames that burned my cheeks and took a wine glass from her when she handed it to me.
“Like any language, it isn’t easy to learn. ASL has its own grammar and syntax and it’s different all over the country. Other than hand gestures, it uses your facial expressions and body language, too. But I think we can figure out something. Why don’t you ask Sam?”
